


I Guess Rain Doesn't Make You Useless

by CaraAkame



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Except Writing, I hope, I'm Bad At Everything Basically, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 14:16:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7937821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaraAkame/pseuds/CaraAkame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This must be a very good day for Roy Mustang. First he gets appointed Fuhrer of Amestris and then Edward Elric is dripping water all over his expensive carpet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Guess Rain Doesn't Make You Useless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KateTheGoddess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateTheGoddess/gifts).



> So this is my first one shot.  
> I'm working on a (painfully) slow burn that I hope you guys will enjoy once I manage to get it done (It's taking forever).  
> Beta'd by KateTheGoddess (she's the best)  
> I hope you'll enjoy this!  
> Also, feel free to point out mistakes and such.  
> Please do comment and tell me what you think and help me become a better writer!
> 
> PS: I promise, one day I'll figure out how the formatting works.

Ed stumbles through Mustang’s door, laughing. The coronation was hilarious, with Mustang looking both proud and uncomfortable while people crowded him to shake his hand. At some point Edward started switching the older man’s empty glass with a filled one every time he saw him looking distinctly stressed.

He’s not sure why he’s at his former commanding officer’s house. He might have ingested more alcohol than is wise. He meant to walk Mustang home, judging him too drunk to find his way back on his own. Once they arrived at the front door, the black haired Fuhrer had pulled Ed in after him and now he was standing in the man’s hall not quite sure what to do.

“Ed.” The soft baritone of the new Fuhrer’s voice makes him look up. The man is much closer than Edward thought he was. He would just have to take one small step forward and he’d be smack against the bastard’s chest. Only now does he realize that he is trapped between Mustang and the front door. He’s not sure how he feels about that.

“Take off your shoes before you get mud on my carpet.”, the older man says, stepping back and then walking to the fire place.

 

More obediently than he has ever done anything in his life, he takes off his boots, noticing that they are extremely wet. Come to think of it, everything is wet. He’s drenched, actually.

Looking up he sees Mustang lighting the fire with Alchemy. The man has already discarded his soaked coat and is now standing in front of the fire in a white shirt that is now see-through due to the fact that the coat did absolutely nothing to keep him dry.

There is toned muscle under that shirt. There is also a massive scar on his left side. It almost matches Ed’s. Suddenly the young blonde realises he’s still in his wet coat and drenched everything else. Gingerly he peels off the outermost layer and hangs it up on a coat rack he didn’t even notice before.

 

“Hey, do you have a towel or something? I may or not be soaked to the bone.”, he says to the older man, who looks at him and then his eyes widen. Looking down on himself he sees that his shirt is about as opaque as Mustang’s, which is not at all.

“I – yes, I have a towel. One second.”, the Fuhrer replies, walking out of the room.

Alcohol making him bold and years of familiarity making him comfortable with Mustang seeing his automail, he shrugs out of his shirt and tries to get his fingers to open the slippery belt buckle.

 

He’s still failing miserably at opening his belt when Mustang walks back in, towel in hand. The man stops walking when he catches sight of Ed. With a tiny shake of his head, the black haired Alchemist continues walking, not taking his eyes off of Ed’s face. He has already changed into dry clothes and his hair is a dishevelled mess, probably due to rubbing a towel through it vigorously. He looks thoroughly debauched and Ed tries not to think about how sexy that looks.

“Ed.”, he says. “That’s the second time you’ve said my name. Not _Fullmetal_ , or _Major Elric_ , not even _Edward_. Just Ed.”, he replies. Mustang looks at him for a full ten seconds before saying: “Seeing as you retired a good four years ago, neither Fullmetal or Major Elric seems fitting.”

“I know. But you’ve been calling me _Fullmetal_ for four years, regardless.”, Ed says, still fumbling with his belt. The movement draws Mustang’s eyes to his hands. They widen just a fraction before the man replaces Ed’s hands with his own. “Mustang, what are you doing?”, he asks, blushing at the fact that his voice hitches.

“Helping you with your belt. You’ve been trying to open it for a good 5 minutes.”, the man says, before adding: “You know, you _can_ call me Roy. After being called _Fuhrer Mustang_  all day, I’d rather just be _Roy_ right now.”, and looking up at Ed.

“Roy.”, Ed tries out. Realising that Roy probably expects something to follow his name, he says: “I just realised. Your eyes- they’re not black.” They’re blue, so dark it’s practically violet.

Roy just makes a noncommittal noise and drops his hands from Ed’s belt. It’s open, finally. Then Mustang reaches for the towel he dropped on the floor in favour for Ed’s rebellious clothing. His face is in front of Ed’s crotch, though he doesn’t seem to realize it.

 

Edward very much hopes his cock will behave, but then Mustang freezes, towel in hand, and looks up at Ed. The expression there is so open, it makes Ed hard and soft at the same time. In all the wrong places. He hopes it’s just the alcohol, hopes his pupils aren’t as dilated as Roy’s are when he slowly gets up and tugs Ed’s hair tie from his ponytail. Blond hair falls over his shoulders and the younger man is again reminded how long it’s become. It brushes the part of his back where his flying ribs connect to his spine.

Roy takes the towel and starts drying Ed’s hair. He starts at the top, slowly working his way to the tips. Ed’s sodden pants and dripping hair leave a bit of a puddle beneath his feet, but Roy doesn’t seem to care much, even though he was so prissy about the boots.

“Roy.”, he says, his breath hitching as the man in question takes his hair and sweeps it over his left shoulder. He starts rubbing Edward’s neck dry with the towel and moves down his back once he deems it dry enough. One of his hands stays at the spot of his throat where his pulse is thrumming way too quickly.

“Ed.”, the man answers, not taking his eyes off Ed’s.

“My pants are dripping all over your expensive carpet.”, the blonde tells the new Fuhrer.

“They are indeed.”, Mustang replies. Dropping the towel behind Ed, the man’s hands go back to where they were a few minutes ago, opening the top button of his trousers, then the next one and then the next. Ed curses his pants, with their many buttons, Roy, for opening them so slowly, you’d almost think he’s doing it on purpose, and the rain for making him so wet he has to actually take off his pants.

While opening the last button, Roy’s hand brushes Ed’s cock and they both go very, very still.

Then, Roy looks down and says: “Oh.”

 

Ed prays to every deity there is that he’s not as hard as he knows he is and looks Mustang in the eyes. He’s expecting a smirk on that unfairly handsome face, but there is only surprise. Then his pupils dilate even more and the grip on Ed’s pants tightens just before he is yanked forwards by the open flaps of his trousers. The shock of the situation and the alcohol making him very slow in the head, he stiffens when Mustang’s lips touch his own. Roy starts to draw back slightly, probably anticipating some sort of physical retribution, but Ed really doesn’t want Roy to draw away. Clenching his hands in the fabric of Roy’s shirt, he hauls him back into the kiss with more intensity than is probably wise in his state. Mustang lets out a sound of surprise, that may or may not have been his name, and pulls Ed closer to him, wrapping his arms around his back and neck.

Abruptly, he pulls back only to, not all that gently, push Ed onto the couch they’ve been standing in front of and drop to his knees in front of it.

Roy starts tugging at his trousers and, realising what the man is trying to do, Ed lifts his hips to help. The sodden pants land in a heap somewhere with a wet squelching noise, but Ed is so beyond caring at this point.

 

“You are overdressed, _Fuhrer Mustang_.”, Ed says, getting a groan in return. Without a word, said Fuhrer takes the rim of Ed’s boxers and yanks them down with enough force to rip them, earning an embarrassing yelp from Ed. 

Roy stares at Ed’s, now definitely very hard, cock for a second before leaning down and taking the entire length into his mouth. He can feel Roy swallowing around him and combined with the fact that the man is on his knees, fully clothed and making very obscene noises nearly pushes him over the edge right off the bat.

 

Slowly, deliberately, Roy pulls back, licking a stripe up the underside of Ed’s cock, drawing a groan out of the blonde. Then, just as slowly he takes him back in. Ed is whimpering now, trying very hard to hold on to the shreds of his dignity, but doing a miserable job. Roy must notice this because he picks up the pace and starts moaning against Ed’s length. The young blonde feels like a teenager again when the release rocks through him after such a short time and he tries to stifle the sound that escapes his mouth with his hand, but it doesn’t seem to help much. 

Still half sitting on the couch, he wills his breathing to go back to normal but doesn’t get a chance because Roy is now on top of him, kissing him. He can taste himself in Roy’s mouth and that shouldn’t turn him on so much, but it does.

He clutches at the lapels of the older man’s shirt and rips it apart. He doesn’t feel very sorry; the man can always mend it with Alchemy. Roy gasps satisfyingly at the tearing noise.

Grinning like a maniac, Ed gets up with Roy still straddling him and slides onto the floor instead. It’s a very comfortable carpet and the couch just seemed too small.

 

“Roy.”, he says breathlessly, not getting to continue the sentence because Roy’s not letting him, but the older man seems to understand him regardless because suddenly there’s a bottle of lube next to them. He has no idea where it came from, but he doesn’t really care right now. Knowing Central’s most eligible bachelor, he probably just hides lube near the most probable places where it would come in handy. Like the couch they started on.

The bottle is also open, which confuses Ed for a second before he feels slick fingers on the curve of his butt. They are hesitant, careful, and that confuses Ed even more. He looks up at Roy and nods at the enquiring look he gets. Less hesitant, but just as careful, one finger slides past the ring of muscles of his, now, favourite hole, and works its way slowly inside. A second follows it and then both curl and hit that perfect spot and he can’t help the moan that escapes him. Grinning, Roy works in a third and makes sure to hit that spot with every movement.

If he hadn’t come only a few minutes earlier he probably would have now.

 

The fingers leave him and he lets out a bit of a sad whine that he’ll be embarrassed about later. Looking up he sees Roy stepping out of his pants and stares at his former commanding officer’s cock. It’s bigger than he thought it would be and he’s suddenly nervous.

But then Roy smiles at him and it’s genuine, so he relaxes a bit. The older man kneels down between Ed’s legs and the young blonde lifts his legs and lays them over the Fuhrer’s shoulders.

Roy slicks up his considerable length and positions himself in front of Ed’s entrance. Very carefully and slowly, he slips inside. Ed needn’t have worried. It didn’t hurt at all, he just felt very blissfully full. The older man stays still for a bit, giving Ed time to adjust to the feeling, even though he doesn’t need it.

“Get on with it, _Fuhrer President_.”, Ed says, earning a groan from said Fuhrer and then he starts moving. He hit’s his prostate with every thrust and Ed has stopped caring how he sounds by now.

“God, Ed, the sounds you make.”, Roy tells him and picks up the pace even more. He places a slicked up hand on Ed’s length and starts stroking in time with the thrusts and it doesn’t take long after that.

Hoping the walls are thick enough, he lets out a mixture between a moan and a scream when he comes the second time, clenching hard around Roy’s length, making the other man groan as his thrusts become erratic. Ed feels the Fuhrer’s come filling him up and it’s somehow really erotic.

Lying on the carpet in front of the fire, Roy’s cock still in him, the man himself lying on top of him with a smile on his face, Ed silently thanks Al for making him go to the coronation.


End file.
